


One Night Is Not Enough

by senbazuru



Series: I Ache For You [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, USUK - Freeform, mild angst again?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senbazuru/pseuds/senbazuru
Summary: Alfred is in love with his best friend Arthur. He’s coping now that it’s all out in the open, though what happened that night was a lot to process. They’re both trying hard to stay as close as before, but can their good intentions alone be enough?





	One Night Is Not Enough

“Admit it, you’re drunk” Alfred slurred, childishly needling at Arthur as he poked him in the ribs.

Together they raucously made their way over the threshold of Alfred’s house, and on into the warmth of the cosy living room, the door to which swinging open and bashing soundly against the wall.

“Libel and slander! I’ll have you know that... I’m” Arthur began to refute his claim, before accidently nudging his hip against the arm of the couch and thus sending his gait a fraction off course “a little bit yeah,” he laughed as he steadied himself. “But so are you.”

“I Know” Alfred grinned proudly, folding his arms across his chest and noticeably swaying on the spot.

Alfred was wearing his trendiest button down shirt and a few hours ago Arthur’s hair had been combed and almost neatly styled, although admittedly now it looked just about as messy as it always did. If not a little bit worse.

They’d been drinking with friends, something they hadn’t actually done in a surprisingly long time, and Alfred had really missed being silly with Arthur.

These past few weeks - after _that_ night - had indeed been surprisingly fun packed considering, and he’d seen so much of Arthur in comparison to the previous months.

It seemed to be something they’d wordlessly agreed upon; every Friday or Saturday night, dependant on work commitments, they now made time for one another. Be it a quiet movie at home or going out somewhere together, they both made an effort to stay connected.

And it wasn’t something that they’d formally discussed either. But Alfred could tell that Arthur was consciously trying to reassure him with his presence, always quietly watching to make sure he was doing alright. But there had been no real awkwardness like Alfred had feared.

Things had... changed. There was no getting away from the fact. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad shift, just a knowing undercurrent to their every interaction. Alfred had finally come out and said it, he’d admitted to having been in love with his best friend for years, that he was still so in love with him. And somehow, the atmosphere seemed to have been both cleared and muddied all at once.

There hadn’t really been much talking. Of the emotional kind at least. And Alfred knew it was because of him, that he was stubbornly avoiding the issue, always managing to distract or divert the conversation when Arthur looked like he might try to broach the subject.

It was all kinds of childish, and it was very unlikely that Arthur would let him get away with it for very much longer, but for the moment Alfred was just trying to claw back some normalcy. He was attempting to pick himself up, even if he still felt like falling.

Alfred had hated pulling away from Arthur, avoiding his calls and sending back vague noncommittal replies. The twist of guilt in his stomach and the unbearable longing in his chest had only ever seemed to get worse with every reluctant backwards step he’d taken. He’d missed his best friend so much that it felt as if a vital piece of himself had been painfully expunged, rendering him incomplete and unfit for purpose, like a deck of sad and tattered playing cards left with only three remaining suits.

But that had all been six weeks ago. That was _before_ , and now Alfred was back where he belonged at Arthur’s side, his heart not really aching any less but at least his guilt had slowly simmered down. He was working on the rest.

Yes, he definitely felt the trail of Arthur’s curious green eyes studying his moods and outward expressions when they were together, and in turn he gallantly pretended not to notice, although he appreciated his concern nonetheless.

Even if it still hurt, Alfred couldn’t help but want to be right there in each moment, and he smiled a genuine if tipsy smile as he watched Arthur flop down onto the couch and struggle to pull his boots off without properly untying the laces. He’d offer to help him out, but perhaps that’d be a little too reminiscent. So instead, he trod down the backs of his own pair of sneakers, and kicked them unceremoniously against the vacant armchair in front of the window.

“I need something sweet” Arthur grumbled as he threw his footwear under the coffee table and tipped his head back against the couch cushion, his eyes falling closed but only lightly so, the way they did when he was drunk. “God, I’d kill for a bag of Maltesers right now” he rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes to squint at Alfred.

“Don’t look at me” he chuckled with a shrug, subtly bracing himself against the ornamental mantelpiece, a few picture frames and nicknacks being rudely jostled in the process. “I told you to get a thing of ice cream too.”

“I didn’t want it then” Arthur reasoned flatly “at the time I only needed chips” and somehow his Britishness was always accentuated after having a drink or two.

“If you were clever like me, you’d have got ice cream _with_ fries. It’s the future” Alfred shot him a pair of uneven finger guns, being purposely smug and obnoxious just to wind him up.

“You’re disgusting” Arthur grimaced, and Alfred took it as a win.

“I’ll see what I’ve got” he pushed himself off the wall and made for the kitchen with only a slight meander to his footfall.

“And some water?” Arthur called after him hopefully, to which Alfred simply made placating sounds.

He fumbled along the wall for the switch and then shuffled towards the sink as his beer addled eyes adjusted to the harsher fluorescent lighting. He filled two large tumblers up with water, the jet from the tap a little too enthusiastic at first and sending a cold arc splashing across the cuff of Alfred’s shirt. He cursed softly under his breath as he dripped a trail of liquid onto the floor, setting the drinks on the table as an icy droplet trickled down inside his sleeve towards his elbow.

Alfred then turned to open one of the wall mounted cabinets and eyed the unappealing canned goods and bottles of random condiments that waited solemnly within for their time. He needed to go to the store.

Over the last couple of weeks he’d taken to accepting extra hours at work, racking up the overtime and ordering takeout at the office when he’d needed something to eat. It wasn’t that he was avoiding being at home exactly, although a modicum of truth lay in the fact that his kitchen now reminded him of kissing, and his own king sized bed was still a tangle of mixed emotions. But it was more that he needed to spend some time doing things he was definitely good at; solving long convoluted problems but for which he already knew the parameters. 

Alfred nudged a can of Cheez Whiz out of the way - Arthur had shown long ago that he was incapable of appreciating such a delicacy - and riffled through a bunch of half empty boxes and packaging that cluttered the rear corner of the shelf, searching for anything that Arthur might enjoy.

Alfred had always secretly prided himself on being attuned to Arthur’s tastes. He could confidently order for him at a restaurant if the other happened to be running late, and if anyone ever needed to know which type of highland whisky to buy for Arthur’s birthday or the particular brand of tea they ought to keep in, Alfred could supply them with the details. He’d had an excellent memory for retaining mindless facts and figures ever since he was a kid, but the preferences of his best friend had never once seemed like a chore for him to recall.

Arthur knew what he liked, and so by extension so did Alfred. It was actually an attribute that he’d strangely admired when they’d first met back in their college days. Because Arthur always seemed so sure of himself. Not in a conceited or pretentious way, but just that he’d already figured out what best worked for him. And that trait had left Alfred a little in awe.

He’d really noticed it the first time he’d chivalrously offered to do a vending machine run during one of their newly established study sessions together. Most people, when asked what they’d like would usually be rather vague or reply with a jaunty ‘surprise me’, perhaps assuming they were making things easier that way. But Arthur had supplied a list of acceptable options; if not Cadbury’s Dairy Milk then Almond Joy, and so forth down the line. It was an approach that some may have found a little too fastidious, but which Alfred had actually strangely appreciated. It appealed to his love of programming rules, not to mention his secret desire for pleasing people.

Tonight however, his pantry cupboard offered none of those confectionary favourites. So instead Alfred settled on a small jar of Reese’s chocolate peanut butter, clamping it under his arm and slipping a couple of spoons into his back pocket in order to keep his hands free to carry their water. It was practically a miracle that he made it back into the living room having only spilled a couple of drops.

“Here” Alfred handed over the spread once he’d placed the glasses onto the coffee table “s’all I’ve got till I get to the store.”

“It’s fine” Arthur heaved himself up eagerly as he twisted off the lid “cheers” he smiled as Alfred passed him one of the spoons.

“No problemo” he sang in happy response, slumping down next to him on the couch a little too heavily. “I know you’d probably have preferred Nutella or something, but peanut butter...“ Alfred trailed off as he turned, his gaze caught on the laden spoon as it became enclosed by Arthur’s lips.

Arthur’s mouth was actually kind of small, and his lips were a delicate rosey pink, his cupid’s bow slightly pronounced to render his pout almost feminine in appearance. Alfred had always found it rather amusing that this soft and dare he say pretty mouth belonged to a man, especially given the rest of his angular features, to say nothing of the sharpness of his tongue.

More broadly, Alfred noticed Arthur’s jaw subtly working as the chocolate spread no doubt slowly melted over his tastebuds. His eyes had drifted closed again, brows slightly lifted as an oblivious Arthur blissfully sated his sugary cravings. Alfred felt his throat go dry.

This felt like something he shouldn’t be watching. This wasn’t what a best friend should want to focus on. He’d been trying so hard not to dwell on his memories of Arthur in his bed - his breathy gasps and flushed face, of how soft and warm his skin had been, how it had felt to be so blissfully close.

“Mmmm” Arthur hummed, sliding the spoon out of his mouth and casually licking it clean, completely unaware of the heat he was kindling in Alfred’s belly and the distinctive ache that predictably returned to his chest. “God that hit the spot” he all but moaned.

Alfred choked on his breath, his fingers digging in to his own thighs, unable to look away.

“What?” Arthur chuckled curiously, before the humour faded as finally he seemed to take in the situation. He looked down at the open jar in his hand before guiltily back up at Alfred. He was already starting to blush, and for the first time in weeks the atmosphere felt painfully awkward. “S-sorry, was that weird? Um, I didn’t think.“

“No” Alfred snapped out of his trance, recognising the familiar pang of shame and self hatred rise up inside himself. “You shouldn’t have to. This is my problem” he bowed his head into his hands “Jesus I’m such a creep.”

“Come on now,” Arthur soothed as he gently placed the jar and spoon onto the coffee table, turning his body inwards next to him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not fucking okay. I hate myself for thinking these things” he straightened up to look at his best friend gravely “for... always wanting to take advantage of you.”

“Who’s taking advantage? You make me sound like some kind of victim.”

“Well aren’t you?” Alfred asked despondently “after y’know... after what I made you do?”

“Fuck off Jones” Arthur shoved at his shoulder “you know full well you gave me ample opportunity to change my mind. Christ, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d brought out some kind of terms and conditions agreement at one point” he tried to joke, but Alfred didn’t match his smile.

Arthur sighed and flopped back against the couch, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling as his face took on a serious expression. 

“If anything, I’m the selfish one” he frowned, catching Alfred’s puzzled expression from the corner of his eye. “For making you stay with me, for putting us through all that because I couldn’t bear to be without you. I’m the one who should be feeling guilty, I should’ve just let you have some distance like you asked...”

“Don’t say it like I actually wanted that” Alfred grumbled his correction as he leaned back so they were level. “I hated staying away.”

“I know you did” Arthur nodded before biting his lip “um, you know, we still haven’t properly talked about-“

“I’m fine with that” Alfred was quick to interrupt.

“Hmm” he sounded sceptical, “but Alfred...”

“I’m still kinda processing.”

“Oh. Okay” Arthur nodded again, but this time it seemed rather unsure and mostly for his own benefit.

For a while they just sat there, quietly staring out into the room as the remaining traces of alcohol lay a soothing blanket over the mood. The faint whisper of late night traffic murmured along outside, casting the occasional beam of amber light against the curtains when a car deigned to come a little closer.

“Did I at least help?” Arthur lolled his head against the back of the couch to look at Alfred, his tone cautious and green eyes searching. “Or, did I make it worse I mean - was it the right thing to do?”

“I’m glad it happened” he turned his head too, and in doing so brought their faces unexpectedly close together. He could feel the air gently move with Arthur’s breath, and once more his gaze drifted down to focus on his lips. Alfred audibly swallowed.

“Are you thinking about kissing me?” he watched as the words were softly spoken, and for some reason Alfred found himself unable to hide from them.

“Yes” he replied in a breathless hiss, throat dry and his pulse already picking up.

The admission hung heavily between them. And even though Alfred didn’t particularly want to talk, he could feel Arthur’s presence and purposeful silence drawing his unformed thoughts from his brain, and down onto his tongue nonetheless.

“I don’t always. I don’t always think about kissing you” Alfred clarified, still watching Arthur’s slightly parted lips. “I want you to know that.” His voice was hushed and earnest, as if this were a conversation held in the dark, when they should otherwise be sleeping. “I’m still Alfred. I’m still your best friend. But sometimes” he licked his own lips, “sometimes it just kinda builds up, and all these stupid feelings I have get in the way. They kinda surge and take over like... like expanding foam or lava - and, I don’t know, that sounds really weird” Alfred paused, taking in the tiny curve that twitched onto the corner of Arthur’s mouth. “Sometimes it feels like if I don’t just reach over and kiss you, I’ll actually suffocate.”

“Alfred...”

“I know” he cut him off preemptively - he didn’t need to hear Arthur tell him why that was useless and dangerous thinking. He already knew. “This is all messed up and I wish I didn’t want to, but knowing that I’ll never get to kiss you again - it physically hurts” his voice wavered, breath catching in his throat.

“Then... then just do it” Arthur hesitated only slightly. “If it’ll help.”

Alfred’s line of sight briefly flicked up to join with Arthur’s in a question, but his eyes were so concerned and filled with far too much affection that Alfred found the intensity too much to bare.

But they were already sitting so close, their shoulders almost touching and faces angled together. It would be such a simple movement, so easy to just lean in...

“I can’t” Alfred croaked “it’s not fair on you.”

“It’s me who’s offering, remember? Listen, I’m not saying it’ll solve anything or that it’s _even_ a good idea, I just hate the thought of you feeling like that and not being able to do anything about it. It’s okay” Arthur’s lips formed into one of his nervous smiles, and so Alfred decided to believe him. 

Obviously this was not the sensible thing to do. And perhaps if they had both been completely sober it would’ve been easier to brush the idea off as inappropriate, or at least as counterproductive. But Arthur was being so accommodating, and Alfred couldn’t find it in himself to be restrained.

He leaned into Arthur’s side, barely daring to breathe as he angled his face so he might fit their lips together. His hands kept to themselves, clutching the denim on his own thighs as Arthur remained inert, only those too green eyes mercifully falling closed.

Alfred took a moment to take in the open expressionon on Arthur’s face before gently kissing the corner of his mouth.

“You can hit me in the morning I guess” Alfred half joked, before allowing his hand to drift up to hold Arthur’s jaw as he leaned in once again.

Arthur tasted of chocolate, peanut butter and rum.

Alfred’s thumb stroked across Arthur’s cheek, his fingers then drifting to caress his neck as he tried to expend all of his longing and energy into just this one kiss. Because he knew he was taking advantage of Arthur’s kindness again.

The morning after _that_ night, he’d woken early with Arthur still sleeping in his arms. Alfred’s glasses had remained skewed uncomfortably upon his face, and he most definitely needed a shower, but even still he felt as if he could’ve stayed like that for eternity. He’d been happy.

It had been without question the best night of his life, but Alfred had known there and then that he needed to let it go. His relationship with Arthur was more important, even if that meant locking a part of himself away.

As soon as Arthur had started to show signs of waking, Alfred had carefully disentangled their limbs and taken one last look at his disheveled, beautiful best friend before slipping away to make that extravagant breakfast he’d promised.

And then when the scent of toast and frying bacon had finally flushed Arthur out, Alfred had plastered an excessively chipper smile across his face at the sound of drowsy steps descending the stairs, and pushed a mug of rapidly cooling tea into Arthur’s hands as he’d entered the kitchen, barefoot and dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

He’d known his breezy act was fooling no one, and that Arthur was watching him sceptically as he spooned the slightly overdone scrambled eggs onto their plates and launched into a monologue about the scientifically proven benefits of a good old cup of joe in the morning.

Arthur had eventually taken his lead, joining in on the inane conversation though his eyes had spoken volumes. He’d obviously sensed the edge of panic in Alfred’s tone, and decided against his better judgment not to push it.

It was such a palpable relief to Alfred as he’d shovelled in his enormous fried breakfast and gulped down his coffee, but he’d known he was being selfish again.

It seemed Arthur brought it out in him; how he’d hoarded his best friend’s time and attention ever since their college days, had deep down never quite accepted Arthur’s relationships even before he’d figured out why. And right now, as alfred greedily pressed his tongue into Arthur’s mouth.

He couldn’t hide from the fact that he wanted more of Arthur, wanted all of him. And even after Arthur had actually given himself completely, after they’d shared a night together making love, Alfred was still left desperately craving.

He’d expended so much mental energy over the last six weeks, keeping a lid on his feelings and fighting the urge to relive every one of those sweet smiles and sensual memories alike. Kissing Arthur now was as much of a release as it was a high - he’d been going cold turkey, and now finally giving in felt euphoric even if ultimately he knew it was wrong.

And it felt so good to be touching Arthur again, the way their thighs pressed together where they sunk towards each other on the plushly upholstered couch, the reassuring warmth of his skin and the softness of his lips against Alfred’s own.

He allowed his mind to recall how Arthur’s breath had hitched when he’d touched him through his jeans. He thought about how soft the skin of Arthur’s collarbone had been beneath his lips, how he’d cried out when he’d stretched him gently, how his body shook and wrapped around him when Alfred was finally inside.

“Fuck” Alfred groaned, squirming uncomfortably in his seat, the action breaking the kiss by a mere couple of inches and leaving only heavy breaths between them.

“What?” Arthur gasped, looking a little dazed as he tipped the side of his head against the sofa.

“Nn-nothing” Alfred deflected, leaning in closer, breathing Arthur’s air for a moment before he took his lips again.

He should be concentrating on just kissing Arthur, because this would definitely be the last time. This had to be it for both their sakes. But even as he allowed himself to cup the side of Arthur’s face in a last ditch effort to stay grounded, those forbidden memories continued to persist.

He was beginning to kiss quicker than Arthur could keep up, his hand moving from cupping Arthur’s face to twine into his already messy hair.

Alfred’s other hand slowly trailed up his own right thigh - he’d only intended to flatten out the folds of tightening denim in an attempt to ease the pressure, but in that hazy lightheaded moment the way that his fingers smoothed over his inner leg and grazed his lap felt like just what his body had been begging for. 

He absently stroked at his length through his jeans, rubbing and subtly pinching, moaning as he licked into Arthur’s mouth.

Alfred remixed his memories with Arthur in real time - all of the places his hands had caressed and his lips had kissed before. He put that knowledge together with the tangible presence of Arthur beside him, his fingers threading into the finer strands of his hair and his thumb tracing over the familiar jut of his cheekbone and then onto the delicate plane of his temple.

His legs spread further of their own accord, his toes curling in their socks and dragging against the fleecy pile of the carpet. Alfred pushed the heel of his hand against his steadily forming erection, and sucked at Arthur’s bottom lip to stifle a moan as he felt a dampening patch sticking fabric to his heated skin.

It was about then that a tiny light in the back of his consciousness flickered into existence as he impulsively thumbed the button at his fly; it was a faint, clouded little warning that told him he was taking things too far. But when the button released and his zipper quietly eased down as Alfred gratefully slipped his hand into his underwear, that caution went unheeded.

“Mmh, Arthur” he groaned, his fingertips brushing lightly, his wrist crooked against the inside of his boxers as he closed his fist and shuddered.

Arthur made a questioning sort of grunt in the back of his throat, and Alfred kissed him harder in reply.

This was wrong. He should definitely not be touching himself whilst kissing his best friend - hell, he shouldn’t even be kissing him in the first place. But his hand was slowly beginning to stroke up and down nonetheless, his thumb pressing against the sensitive tip to spread more precum along his length. And it already felt too good to stop.

But the sofa was beginning to jostle ever so slightly, the increasing rhythm of his forearm was sending little vibrations into the cushions below them, matched only by the heaviness of his breathing.

“Alfred, what’re you-“ Arthur tried to speak, but Alfred bit down on his lip at the mention of his own name “ow!”

“S-sorry” Alfred gasped, hiding his face against Arthur’s neck, and it was unclear if he was apologising for the bite or for the fact that he was still very obviously pleasuring himself.

“... Are you... doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Can’t help it” he almost whined, beginning to slow his pace once more, now that he’d actually been caught. “I couldn’t help it” he sighed again.

“Yes well, I suppose it’s nothing I haven’t seen before” Arthur quipped awkwardly, predictably falling back onto humour.

“I guess” Alfred huffed out airily against Arthur’s neck, his other hand still in Arthur’s hair, fingers now combing gently. “ ‘M sorry.”

“I’m not angry with you Alfred, but-“

“I know” he interrupted guiltily, hand slowing right down so that he was effectively just holding himself. “I’m doing it again - I’m taking advantage again - but I’m drunk and I’m horny, and you’re just so good for me.”

Arthur made a quiet kind of humming noise, and Alfred wasn’t sure if it was agreement or just in contemplation.

“Sorry” he conceded again, slumping further onto Arthur so that he was almost in his lap, his forehead resting against the cool dark cotton of Arthur’s shirt collar.

“Stop apologising so much” Arthur grumbled as he ran a soothing hand reflexively over the curve of Alfred’s spine. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Sorry?” Alfred smirked, his voice now slightly muffled against thin fabric.

“Oi” Arthur slapped him where his hand had been resting on his shoulder blade. “don’t be a brat” but Alfred could tell without looking that he was smiling a little bit too.

“I mean it though” he swallowed, his momentary playfulness gradually fading. “I’m being a major creep again.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic” Arthur sighed, shifting his legs slightly inward for a comfier position, accepting more of Alfred’s weight in the process. “You’ve just gotten yourself worked up, that’s all.”

His breathing was indeed still noticeably heavy, and Alfred bit his lip and closed his eyes for a few moments whilst he willed his erection away. However, his continued proximity to Arthur wasn’t really helping matters much.

“How are you being so calm about this?” he wondered aloud “I literally just went from kissing you to accidentally getting my dick out in like, the span of fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, you’ll have to try harder than that to shock me Alfred Jones” Arthur chuckled, and Alfred rolled his head back on Arthur’s shoulder so he could glance up at his face. “I’m serious” he continued, nodding once at Alfred before looking back out into the room. “Nothing short of actual criminal activity could make me lose faith in you.”

“Thanks” Alfred choked a little, burying his face back in Arthur’s neck. “Same.”

“I know” he hummed in recognition, briefly squeezing Alfred tighter in their oddly positioned hug. “Besides” and he could feel him tipping his head to the side “like I said, we’ve already done far more intimate things.”

“Yeah” Alfred breathed out, his cock twitching at the mere thought, his treacherous fingers encircling tighter and performing a languid movement almost of their own volition. “We have haven’t we” Alfred agreed, impulsively dragging his tongue against Arthur’s neck just to reiterate his point.

“Hey” Arthur warned, but showed no intention of moving away.

“What?”

“I think you know what”

“Please” Alfred groaned, even as his wrist began to pick up pace regardless. “Let me get off. Fuck, I need it” he hissed, lightly scraping his teeth against Arthur’s skin. ”Then that’s it, you won’t have to deal with it again. And we’ll talk” he added almost as an after thought “like a proper talk - I’ll even take you to that fancy overpriced tea shop you like.”

“Is that an attempt at bribery Jones?”

“Is it working?” Alfred laughed.

“God you’re bloody insufferable” Arthur griped.

“Come on - I’ll be quick” and it had definitely been an attempt at a tasteless joke, but the obvious strain in his voice and the way that he licked his lips, eyes hungry as he pushed at Arthur’s shoulder for him to lie back effectively mitigated any intended light-heartedness.

Arthur fell gently with his head supported against the arm of the couch, his feet lifting off the floor as he reclined and steadying himself on the cushions so that he ended up lying down. Alfred quickly shifted to straddle his hips, one hand propped next to Arthur’s head and the other still languidly stroking himself through his open fly and pushed down boxers.

“So- I’m gonna need you to look at me Artie” Alfred murmured his request “just, can you just stay with me?”

“O-okay” Arthur nodded along slightly uncertain, he was already starting to blush, and god but that was really doing things for Alfred.

“Can you uh, could you maybe raise your knee?” Alfred panted.

“Like this?” and Arthur swallowed thickly as he drew his foot up flat against the sofa, his knee fitting snuggly between Alfred’s thighs.

“Yeah, fuck yeah that’s good” and Alfred sank back into a slow purposeful grind.

They were both breathing more heavily than usual, and now that Alfred had completely freed his cock to the open air, the quiet rhythm of skin gliding slick against skin joined the sounds of their breaths and the creaking of the furniture below them.

And Alfred had seemed to have captured Arthur’s gaze like a conflicted deer in headlights, he never once looked away from Alfred’s face, from his hooded eyes, and the unspoken connection that Alfred so badly needed was held taut between them like a wire.

”Shit, let me just...” Alfred shifted his weight and reached his spare hand to Arthur’s shirt collar, “just one more” and he unpicked the highest fastened button and nudged the fabric further aside to reveal more of Arthur’s neck and chest.

Alfred bit his own lip as the hand on his cock increased its pace. He gazed down at Arthur, at his body but also just at his presence - the very fact that he was Arthur. This whole situation felt a little sordid, kind of dirty, but somehow that only seemed to amplify his pleasure.

“ _Mmn fuck_ ” Alfred’s bottom lip dragged out from between his teeth as he pressed his balls down against Arthur’s thigh, his hips canting sinuously to chase the heated friction.

All previous concerns of morality had temporarily left Alfred’s head as he indulged in his craving. He jerked himself hard and fast, his arm moving in a strong rhythmic beat, the air leaving him in harsh exhales and the occasional curse.

Arthur continued to stare up at him, his eyes wide beneath his lashes, and it felt almost as if he’d forgotten to look away rather than it having been asked of him. His cheekbones were tinged with an attractive darkening pink, and Alfred could see his Adam’s apple noticeably bob in his throat as he swallowed.

He wanted to kiss Arthur, to run his hands over his waist and touch him in return. But Alfred was so close as it was, he could feel the throbbing need rising in his gut, starting to bubble and boil over.

So instead of breaking his rhythm to lean down and kiss Arthur, he cupped his jaw just to study his puffy, kiss swollen mouth for a moment. He pressed his thumb against Arthur’s bottom lip experimentally, gently pushing it down to expose just a hint of a row of pearly lower teeth.

He could feel Arthur’s curious gaze still on his face as he in turn focused on the pad of his thumb as it breached Arthur’s small mouth, feeling the soft wet warmth of the tip of his tongue.

”fuuu- oh god” he shuddered deeply, “I’m so- Arthur, Arthur I need...“

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been asking, as his wrist began to cramp in protest to its overuse, his mind registering so many overwhelming sensations. But the moment that Arthur lifted a hand to lay his palm against Alfred’s heart, the world fell away and rose to meet him all at once.

Alfred squeezed his fist around the head of his cock as he shot three long spurts of come againat Arthur’s chest and up onto his exposed collarbone. His eyes were screwed shut, and a guttural shout wrenched its way from his throat. His whole body spasmed as he rolled his hips through his final release, grinding down onto the thigh between his own.

The static of blood rushing in his ears almost entirely ecliped the sound of his own heavy breathing, and Alfred gasped for lungfuls of air even as he slumped forward to bury his face against Arthur’s neck.

His nerves were all still thrumming with tiny residual shocks throughout his boneless body, and though he was massively overheated and distantly aware that his limbs were oddly pisitioned, Alfred could feel the calm roll over him like a soothing cover of soporific fog.

He was falling asleep - he shouldn’t - he was still on top of Arthur, the evidence of his orgasm was still on an Arthur’s clothes, and now probably on his own. But the way that his best friend was gently carding his fingers through his hair, and the steady, reassuring rise and fall of his chest was enough to keep his heavy eyes closed.

Alfred heaved a sigh as he blindly placed a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. They could deal with the fallout tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Okaaay, so... it’s been a while huh? 
> 
> Just want to preface any and all excuses that follow that this fic was always going to be the awkward scrawny middle child. I’ve been sort of writing this and the concluding part at the same time (which I’m hoping won’t take me over a year to get out, but ughhh we’ll see) and as it’s the messy intermediary chapter, I hope that it’s still an okay read? 
> 
> I really hate writing sometimes, but I love having written if that makes sense. Even with just a silly shortish usuk fanfic, it’s mentally taxing and can be really frustrating when progress is so slow - but the lovely comments I’ve been so lucky to receive have kept me going all this time. And I mean that literally, when until recently I hadn’t touched my writing app in several months, I sat down and read through every single comment on I Ache for You, and then I managed over a thousand words that same night. Doesn’t sound like a lot, but with the way my process goes it was a win. So thanks! 
> 
> The tile for this one is taken from the song by Snow Patrol, and god it’s just so deliciously angsty and fitting. Check it out and let me know if you do. 
> 
> I haven’t really got a song in mind for the final part, unlike like the ones that for me have so neatly encapsulated the feel of the first two (I always sort of imagine them as the music that’s playing over the credit rolls in this series). So if you have any recs - that you think describe how you’d like Alfred to be feeling by the end - then send them my way and I’ll add them to my writing inspo playlist. 
> 
> Feelings will of course be properly exposed and discussed in the final instalment - seems like Arthur has some explaining of his own actions to do, and Alfred will have to attempt to make things right for the both of them. I do hope their characterisations and motivations still stand up in this part though, short as it is, and that both of them are still somewhat likeable if a little flawed. 
> 
> Anyway as always, thanks for reading and for sticking with me!


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